


A Step Too Far

by Bethann, Minniemoggie



Series: Legendary Friendship [7]
Category: Lord of the Rings (Movies), Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Friendship, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Spanking, illustrated story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-23
Updated: 2012-02-23
Packaged: 2017-10-31 15:25:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/345663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bethann/pseuds/Bethann, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minniemoggie/pseuds/Minniemoggie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Legolas is away from home on an important day, but Gimli wants to make it special anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It will help if you've read some of the other stories in this series first, especially Legendary Friendship since it gives the premise of the relationship between Legolas and Gimli and our way of seeing them. We do realize there are AU aspects to this, such as the age that elves reach maturity. Tolkien says it was around 50 years, but for our stories to work, we've set it at 1,000 years.  
> We hope you enjoy!

 Title: A Step Too Far part 1

Author: Minnie and Beth

A/N:  This is a request story written for Robyn, whose encouraging comments and reviews make writing and posting a pleasure!  She has agreed to let this be posted here, so we hope it hits the spot for others as well. 

Thanks Robyn!

 

I force myself to smile as a neighbour of Dorbryn’s spots me crossing the main public hallway, and then I let out the breath I had not known I was holding as she nods and walks on by without asking me where I am going.

I feel as if everyone I pass is looking at me askance. Some are of course, for while I am less of an interest now than I was on my first visit, still it is a rare occurrence for an elf to be found within the mountain home of the dwarves of Erebor and as the heir to Eryn Lasgalen I have not always been accorded a warm welcome.

I let out a sigh for I know that my present course is not going to improve my standing within the confines of Erebor, not least with my guardian and his family. Hurting those who have befriended me is not something I do lightly, yet I am determined to do what I have set out upon and that is … Well I have made the decision to leave here, without taking leave of Gimli, Lord Gloin and Lady Vonild. I have left a note for Gimli, explaining where I am going, but I know he will be displeased with me, and rightly so.  It is a poor guest who leaves without thanking his host and I can already hear my tutor’s disapproving voice in my head for my poor conduct will probably reflect badly upon his efforts to teach me proper manners.

Despite this and my own feelings of guilt I am not going to be deflected from my path. My conscience tells me I should have spoken of my real reasons for wishing to leave to Gimli. He would have done his best to understand, but I could not bring myself to do so. It would make me seem so ‘needy’. I am a warrior, one of the nine walkers, soon to be named a prince of Ithilien and what does this prince find himself doing on this winter morning? Sneaking off like a thief in the night, and why?

I hardly like to admit it even to myeslf.  I want… no I wish… that is I desire… no the truth is I _need_ to be with my Ada, for in a very few days it will be my begetting day and  we try always to be together to celebrate it.




Eru but I sound like the veriest of spoilt elflings who is crying out for his Ada! But it is more than that, I swear, for since my naneth’s death my father has always ensured that we do something special together on my begetting day. It is the day we also remember my naneth and Ada tells me stories of my earliest years when nana was still with us both, stories that I love and which I know Adar enjoys telling for it allows him to remember his queen and the happiness they shared together as well.

I have only been away from him once in all the long years of my life so far, when I went on the quest last year, and that forced separation makes it all the more vital for me to be with him this year. That I am not already safely ensconced within the stronghold is of course my fault. I should not have come home with Gimli but gone straight to Eryn Lasgalen for I could see the weather was turning but I also knew it would not be so bad that I could not travel through it.  What I had not taken into account was Gimli’s protectiveness of me. He would not listen to my reasoned arguments about the fact that elves do not feel the cold as mortal kind do, or that I can walk on snow rather than through it, even though he saw me do exactly that last year when we attempted to climb Caradhras the Cruel. He says that the frozen rain storms Erebor has been experiencing are more dangerous than snow and strong winds I am more accustomed to dealing with. He is just trying to look out for my welfare, I realize that, but I know my own capabilities better than anyone and I know I can get home without difficulty, Gimli, however, was adamant.  I was not to attempt a journey home until the weather improved.

This is why I am now sneaking off, my pack, knives, and quiver hidden beneath my folded cloak and while I know that Gimli and his family are busy elsewhere.

Hopefully by the time I see Gimli again in the spring he will have gotten over his anger over my disobedience and will have forgiven me; if not well I can still run faster than he can.

I reach the great doors without incidence and step outside, narrowing my eyes to adjust them to the light, what there is of it, for the sky above me is dark, the clouds grey and heavy with a mixture of rain, sleet, snow and ice.

The door guards do not attempt to stop me although one growls out that it is a foul day even for the likes of me to be out.

The other guard does warn me to take care on the steps that wind down from the high door into the valley below. The stairway is steep. It is one of the reasons that Erebor remains secure, for there is no other way into the mountain, at least no way that is known beyond the folk of the mountain themselves. Any who attempt to attack must climb the stone steps and while they do so they can easily be picked off by the guards above them.

The steps are covered in ice and the storm that is blowing in will bring more of it, but my feet are light, and I should experience little difficulty, yet I take the time to thank him. Then still holding my gear hidden in my cloak I set off down the stairway.

I am soon over half way down, and I admit the stairs are more difficult to traverse than I had anticipated.  What is more I will be happy to reach the valley and to don my cloak for even I can feel the bitter cold of the ice storm biting into my bones.

 Even as I think this a shout goes up from the top of the steps, and I automatically turn to look back fearing my escape has been noticed. My desire to see who is calling out is my undoing, as I swivel round on my heel I feel myself losing my footing. I attempt to restore my equilibrium but by doing so I over compensate. I throw my pack to one side, for if I fall on my bow and break it I will never forgive myself. Yet even jettisoning my bundle I cannot prevent myself from stumbling backwards catching my head on the stone stairs above me and I know it is now too late to prevent a serious fall. I close my eyes and attempt to relax for I know that should I stiffen up I am more likely to suffer broken bones alongside the numerous bruises I have already collected.

Then I am toppling, tumbling, unable to stop myself plummeting downwards and with every step my descent is quickening …

 

xxxxx

I stand with my heart in my throat as I read the note left for me by my friend, not knowing whether to be angry or terrified.  It is a feeling I should be used to by now, but somehow I never seem to grow accustomed to the mixed emotions engendered in me by my unpredictable, flighty charge.  Of course I am furious that he has decided to defy my direct instructions not to attempt a journey home in the treacherous weather we have been having.  I spent a good amount of time earlier this morning trying to reason with him about it.  After all in a few days, the weather will likely clear up, but he would not see sense no matter how I explained it.  Finally I resorted to ordering him to remain until I thought it was safe for him to leave, because I could see we weren’t going to come to an accord about it.  I could tell he was irritated with me, but didn’t worry over it too much, for that is not an unusual occurrence.  Often what he feels is perfectly safe and acceptable, is really outrageously dangerous and foolhardy. 

I do not have to think about what I will do. Though his note assures me he will be fine and will have no problems and that I should not come after him, there is no question about it.  I will at least have to go to the bottom of the mountain and make sure he safely passed the steps. If he managed that, the warmer weather below might mean that the ice isn’t so hazardous.  If that is the case I will wait a day or two and set out to make certain he at least made it to Lake Town to retrieve his horse.  I am certain he will send word when he arrives home and when I see him in the spring…well lets just say it won’t be pretty.  But for now I must prepare for the worst and that means getting ready to try to take on the mountain myself.

I wish to hurry, but I know to be successful it will take some time.  I start by gathering what I will need:  a bag of sand, a pick and shovel, and a basic field bag containing water, a few medical supplies, and some flint for lighting a fire.  Next I look around and find two pie tins that I flatten and punch holes in with an awl.  This I will tie to the soles of my boots so that the metal will grab the ice and hopefully prevent me sliding about too much. 

Mam comes in just as I am donning a heavy, fur-lined cloak. 

One of the door guards meets me on my way to the entrance, having decided that perhaps I hadn’t known that Legolas had gone.  Folks here are just beginning the catch on to the true nature of our friendship and it has evidently just dawned on the guards that I might not have approved of this venture.  Fortunately he lets me know that the lad isn’t too far ahead of me.  I hope to be able to catch up with him on the steps and haul him back inside before making clear my thoughts on his half baked plan to travel home in this treacherous weather.  Either that or pitch him over the edge of the mountain and save myself a lot of headaches in the future!

Nearly halfway down I see a dark object and on closer inspection see that it is a cloak that has caught on a tree root that is jutting up through the ground. I do not have to examine it to know who it belongs too. It is just as I feared!  Beyond that I find a few arrows that have been trapped on an outcropping of stone, the only thing preventing them from skidding all the way to the bottom of the mountain like the rest of them likely have done.  One of them is broken into several pieces, which makes my stomach twist into a knot.  The spilled quiver and broken arrow paint a vivid picture that I do not wish to think about. 

Any residual anger in me turns to sheer terror now.  Taking a tumble on these steep stairs as slick as they are means that is almost impossible that Legolas will not have been injured or worse.  I squint my eyes and try to spot him farther below when I see where a large tree that has fallen across the steps, probably brought down by the heavy ice. A little farther down and I can see him! He looks to be attempting to stand up and while I am thankful he is moving I am afraid he will cause himself an injury or slip and fall further down the mountain. I shout for him to be still, but I am uncertain if he can hear me or not through the wind. Whatever the case he does not try to stand again. 

 I hurry my steps as much as I can which isn’t much since I have to break the ice and spread sand with each step. It will do no good to reach the lad only to have to leave him again while I clear a path.  If we attempt to climb back up the icy steps without clearing them we will risk both of us plummeting to our deaths.

 

I finally make it to him, and am grateful for the tree that lost its life in this  ice story and probably prevented his death by stopping his descent.  In spite of the fact that elves do not feel the cold as we mortals do, this one is shivering uncontrollably.  He is soaked to the skin with frigid rain.  His clothing is driven full of ice and his hair is coated in it.   His right leg is bent at an odd angle and he has his arms wrapped protectively around himself.  I cannot tell if this is due to the cold or to cracked ribs, but I am not in a position to assess his injuries very thoroughly just now.  I throw the extra cloak around him to protect him from the downpour as much as possible and then as gently as I can wrap the twisted knee enough to immobilize it somewhat.  I quickly toss the spilled contents of his pack and his knives back into his pack and throw it over my back and then tie my pick to my belt.  I leave the remaining sand and Legolas’ bow behind for I will not be able to carry them and my friend at the same time.   When the weather clears we can send someone to retrieve them. 

Though I try not to jar him too much, he cries out when I lift him into my arms. He is not heavey, but he does fight me a bit claiming he can walk on his own, which causes me to have to put him down again before I drop him. Even injured and half frozen, his pride is unbelievable and I am sure he does not relish being carried through the gates of Erebor.  Still he should have thought of that before deciding to defy me in the first place. 




I do not say any of this, but I’m certain he understands the meaning of the low growl that issues from me, and the light swat to the side of his thigh before I lift him again.  This time he does not struggle, but just wraps an arm around me and hangs on.

My relief is great as I step into the warmth of the entrance.

 

Evidently news has travelled fast about what has happened for folks do not stop me or stand in my way. One of he door guards goes ahead of me opening doors for me, dispersing curious crowds and leading me all the way to Mam’s door.  She opens it and gasps at the sight we make, but I brush my way past her to the fire where she has blankets heating in anticipation of our return. I drop the cloak that is wrapped around my friend and ice clatters across the floor as I place him on the couch in front of the fire and begin removing his boots and stripping off his frozen clothing. The fact that he isn’t objecting to this treatment worries me more than the rapidly swelling knee and the dark bruises that cover his torso.

XXXX

I have heard Aragorn speaking of ‘your life flashing before your eyes’ when you are in dangerous or dire situations and now I find that his words are true. Even as I fall I can see in my mind’s eye many scenes from my past. I know that if there is no way of stopping my descent I am unlikely to survive. There is a loud crack nearby and a tree that has no doubt clung for years to the steep side of the mountain falls across the steps. I crash into it with some force and its bulk is enough to slow my fall and I sprawl just below its spread branches, more grateful than I can say for its sacrifice. I am at least still alive.

How long that situation will pertain I cannot tell. I had not sufficiently realized how cold this frozen rain could make one. My clothing is soaked but also stiff, ice is forming on my face, hands and hair. I have to start moving else I will freeze to death. I attempt to stand but my knee gives way beneath me and the slick steps make my clumsy efforts even more dangerous.  My ribs ache and I suspect that at least two of them are cracked yet I have to try …

From above me I think I hear a call but I cannot be sure. Perhaps someone has seen my plight and is attempting a rescue. I hope they do not put themselves at risk to save me, yet I can only be grateful if they do.

It seems an eternity before the familiar bulk of Gimli Gloinson arrives and he immediately swathes me inside a fur lined cloak and wraps my knee before lifting me in his arms. I make a small protest at this but the swat I receive for my efforts and the growl that is the only sound he has so far made are sufficient warning to me to acquiesce. Indeed I even put an arm around his neck to help and snuggle into his cloak for the extreme cold seems to be leeching my life out of me. I have never known anything like this before.

Our journey up the steps is tortuous and I am of little help to my friend, who I can feel is almost at the end of even his prodigious strength. Then above us more dwarves appear to help us up the final ascent and into the blessed warmth of the hall.

My memories of the next few moments are blessedly hazy; I do not want to recall the sight I must have made, nor my ignominious return through the public hall in the arms of my guardian. I remember Mam’s shocked face, though, as Gimli pushed passed her and laid me on the couch. Her fear was palpable and my guilty conscience made me look away rather than try to reassure her that I would be well.

I was so relieved to be out of my iced up clothing that I did not complain as Gimli ruthlessly stripped me and wrapped my shivering body in the warm blankets. I assumed I would soon recover but the cold seemed to have got deep inside me and I continue to shiver and shake, even as Mam wraps my hair in a towel and begins to rub it vigorously to remove the ice shards from it.

Gimli holds out a mug of steaming tea but my hands shake so much I cannot hold it and he has to lift it to my lips. He still has not spoken beyond terse commands to do as he bids me as he got me out of my clothing, I can feel fear and anger warring inside him and very much regret that my stupidity has brought him to this. Yet when he utters the one word ‘why’ I cannot bring myself to answer him.  I merely stare at him mutely and shrug my shoulders.

I think he may have laid into me right there, save that Mam urged him to remember my injuries and a thunderous knocking sounded on the outer door announcing the arrival of a dwarven healer to tend to my injuries.

xxxx

 

It takes all of my concentration to hold the cup of tea to Legolas’ lips without my hands shaking as much as his are.  He is still quaking with cold, but that is not what makes me tremble.  Though I was out in the storm myself, I am not cold.  Exercise kept my blood flowing and I am actually quite warm in spite of the fact that a film of ice covered my own cloak by the time we reached the entrance.  No what makes me quaver is fear over what might have happened today.  Had I not returned home for a forgotten tool, I would not have seen the note that he left on my dresser until hours from now when it would have been too late.  The thought makes me quite sick and I find that I have to bite my lip to keep from either weeping or shouting out my frustration.  Neither reaction will help the situation I find myself in at the moment.  Tears will change nothing and yelling at my poor damaged elfling will only relieve my feelings temporarily.  Beyond that I would only feel guilty, for he is suffering for his foolishness already and as angry as I feel right now, I do not wish to add to it. 

Still as Mam towels his hair and shards of ice fall from it and shatter on the floor, I cannot hold back from asking one question. Why?

He stares sheepishly at me for a long moment and it seems like he might answer, but instead he just shrugs and looks away, which is not an acceptable response at all.  Anger flashes up in me. My face must betray my feelings for Mam seems to think it necessary to remind me that Legolas is injured.  It is a purely unnecessary warning.  I know he is injured.  Were he not injured he would have been across my knee as soon as we crossed the threshold and would now be writing a letter home explaining his actions to his father.  As it is, I will not lay a hand on him at least for the moment.  It remains to be seen what will happen later. 

It is a relief when a loud knock at the door distracts my thoughts.  I hurry to open it and invite in the healer, Mistress Lilja.  Evidently Mam sent someone to fetch her as soon as word got to her that her darling was injured.

 For many decades Mistress Valdred was the resident healer under the mountain and Mistress Lilja is her protégé, trained to take Valdred’s place.  She is nearly as eccentric as her predecessor was, though perhaps not quite so otherworldly.  At least it is possible to hold a conversation with her.  She has a great scientific mind and a keen interest in learning new things though you would not be able to tell this from her appearance alone.  Her long brown hair is sprinkled with grey and hangs in unkempt dreadlocks almost to her waist and her clothing looks as if she slept in it most of the time, though she doesn’t seem to care in the least.  She claims that she is far too busy with her personal study and treating patients, to have time for primping. 

Soon Mistress Lilja is asking questions that get increasingly personal and don’t seem to have much to do with anything regarding his fall.  She also rubs a strand of his hair between her fingers and looks inside his mouth. 

“Look at that!” she says as if she has just made an amazing discovery.  I look as she shines her lamp inside his mouth, wondering if she really has gone over the edge for I see nothing but undamaged teeth.

"His last adult teeth are just now immerging," she explains excitedly, "This one is still a child.  I had been lead to believe that there were no elfling's left in Middle Earth."  She frowns accusingly at Legolas as if it is his fault she was unaware of his existance.  Legolas flushes miserably. I expect he feels childish enough without having the healer remind him.




“Lilja. Please!”  Mam says in exasperation, “he is a person, not school supplies for your own personal study.  Surely you have done enough to know what his injuries are.”

“Indeed I have,” she replies unabashedly. “Two cracked ribs and a broken one, a severely twisted knee and more bruises and scrapes than can be counted.  Oh and a little frostbite on his fingertips.  That might be painful, but will cause no permanent harm.  I’ll take care of everything else now.”

With that she deftly wraps his ribs and knee, giving instructions the whole time.  “You should not put weight on that knee until I see you again and keep it elevated if you can and the ribs _must be rested_.  Keeping still will insure that you do not cause yourself further injury, and it is important to remember to breathe deeply every hour or so. It will hurt to do so, but you will be doing your lungs a big favor. I will leave you with some pain relieving powders and I will apply some hyssop salve to your bruises and leave some that you can use each day until the bruises fade.”

Legolas’ eyes widen in alarm as she all but attacks him with the salve. No doubt he is remembering that he has bruises on nearly every inch of his body and doesn’t savour the thought of the exuberant lady touching every one of them.  I hide a smile, for the look on his face is comical though I realize I am going to have to save him even before Mam elbows me in the ribs and jerks her head toward Mistress Lilja, indicating that I should step in. 

“We’ve taken enough of your time already, Madame. I can carry on from here,” I say, taking the salve from her hand.  She nods in agreements and leaves, her adventure having made her day. 

Feeling slightly lighter of heart, I finally feel able to speak civilly to my wilful charge.  ,

“Come, Lamb let’s get you settled in bed and then I will tend to your  bruises. No do not try to get up, you heard Mistress Lilja.  I will carry you.”  With that I lift him, blankets and all and carry him to the bedchamber.  Mam, who has already dissolved the pain killing powders in hot water, opens the door for me and then sits on the side of the bed to watch to make sure he swallows it all before stroking his cheek and leaving us alone.  Legolas gives me fleeting glances as if he is gauging my mood.  Perhaps he is expecting me to explode and give him a thorough tongue lashing at the very least, but I find I do not have the heart for even that.  He is far too beat up to withstand even a mild scolding, and I am too exhausted to deliver one right now.  I would, however like to know what on earth was going through his mind this day. I cannot imagine why he was in such an all fire hurry to get home, when waiting a day or two would have made it much easier.  I do not ask right away, but just begin applying the salve to all of his many bruises and cuts.  He is quite covered in them and winces from time to time when I have to touch an especially painful one, though I am trying to be as gentle as possible.  When I have finished with the front he carefully rolls over to his stomach so I  can attend to the other side.  Perhaps facing away from me is what finally gives him the courage to speak.

“Gimli?”

“Yes Lad?”

“Are you…angry with me?”  It comes out almost as a whisper.  I sigh for I do not wish to lie, but I also do not want to upset him.  Finally I settle on a truthful answer.

"I am trying very hard not to be right now because I know you are suffering. However I am not pleased that you chose to disobey me and risk your life for no good reason.  That was very dangerous and indeed. What in heavens name were you trying to do?  What was so important that you couldn’t wait a few days?  You could have been killed, foolish elfling.”




“I know, Elvellon. I’m sorry…”

“I am sure you are very sorry now, but that is not an answer to my question.  Why did you do it?”

“I…I… would rather not say.  You will think it’s silly and childish.”

“Perhaps so,” I admit, “but I will try to understand and I won’t laugh at you, I promise.”

He groans so miserably that I decide to let it go for now.  He isn’t going anywhere after all so I am sure to get it out of him eventually.  Besides he doesn’t know about my secret weapon for making tight-lipped elflings talk.  I’ll just send Mam in to talk to him and she’s not likely to take his silence as a proper answer.  He won’t stand a chance.


	2. Chapter 2

 

 

 

Title:  A Step Too Far part 2

Author: Minnie and Beth

 

 

XXXX

I groan, and close my eyes in an attempt to get Gimli to stop asking me questions; it seems to work, for after patting my shoulder softly he tells me to get some rest and leaves me alone.

I am exhausted and still chilled yet I cannot sleep.  My ribs ache and my knee throbs, and every bruise and scrape seems determined to remind me of my fall down the stairway. I know I am fortunate that I live, even with all my aches and pains although I do not feel fortunate presently. I feel stupid and embarrassed. The healer was very efficient but she seemed not to care very much about my modesty. Thankfully Mam did, for she ensured that I was kept at least partially covered despite the healer’s attempts to strip me naked. I would have complained save that Gimli was glowering at me so I held my peace, even when she insisted in looking into my mouth as if I were a horse and pronounced I was still an elfling. I was completely humiliated. Fortunately Gimli offered to apply the salve to my cuts and bruises else I do not think I could have kept silent much longer which would have annoyed my guardian no end and I am in sufficient trouble with him already.

So here I lie, in trouble, in pain and as far away from Ada as I was before all this started. Tears come into my eyes at the thought of my father and the fact that I will be away from him for my begetting day.

I squeeze my eyes closed as the tears begin to fall and I try to lose myself on the path of dreams and apparently I succeed for when I next open my eyes my senses tell me several hours have passed. The lamps have been lowered but the fire still burns cheerfully in the grate and Mam is sitting beside my bed, her hands full of a cushion covered in bobbins and pins. She is making lace, something I recall seeing my own naneth do once when I was very young.

The lace bobbins she is using are very plain, compared to the ones I remember, and it occurs to me that here is something I can do to repay Lady Vonild’s kindness. I have some ivory taken from the dead Mumakil on the Pelennor Fields. I am intending to use it to fashion a set of ‘Battle’ figures for my father. One side will be made in ivory the other in a hard black wood called ebony which comes from south of Harad and which Prince Imrahil gifted me with when I admired it. There should be more than enough for me to make a whole set of bobbins for Mam, and I will decorate them with carvings that combine both elven and dwarfish designs. I am sure she will like them and certainly from the way her fingers move so swiftly she will make good use of them. I shift slightly in the bed to try and ease my aching ribs and she immediately looks up from her work and smiles to see I am awake.

She hurries to my side to help me sit up, pushing additional pillows behind my back, and reminding me to keep my breathing steady so that my ribs do not grate too much.

I find I am grateful for her help for my ribs are still quite painful. Mam looks into my eyes and brushes my hair behind my ears before pronouncing that I look a little better. She then asks if I would like some broth and I find I am hungry so I nod and then watch as she bustles about heating the soup she has ready on the fire.

“Have you been sitting with me all this while?” I ask

“Nay, Gimli and Gloin have taken their turns. We didn’a want to leave you all alone in case you needed something when you woke.”

I suspect that what Mam means is they did not want to leave me alone in case I was foolish enough to try and slip away again. Much as I would like to do so, I realize now that Gimli was quite right about my not understanding the difficulties the weather would cause me. I have never encountered such conditions as I found this morning. Gimli described it as an ice storm. I only know that it felt as if I was being coated in a layer of ice, as I moved down the stairway and the conditions under foot were treacherous indeed especially for someone like myself. You needed weight and bulk to keep upright and gain some kind of traction with the ice. Gimli seemed to have mastered the technique, when he is less angry with me I must ask him what he had on his boots that allowed him to move as freely as he did. Thinking about the steps I recall dropping my bow and pack as I fell, and a cursory look around the chamber shows me that only my pack seems to be present now. A warrior’s first responsibility is to his weaponry and I have only just thought about mine. I must be more affected by my accident than I realized.

I do not mean to blurt out ‘where is my bow?’ but I do it anyway and Mam answers readily, “It is safe enough. Gimli went back and retrieved the weapons he could not bring with him when he was carrying you. Gloin is repairing your quiver and Gimli has dried and oiled your knives and bow. They took less harm than you did, lamb.”

I expect her to follow up this comment with the question ‘whatever possessed you?’ but she turns back to the soup and even when she hands over the bowl, she merely stands smiling as I swallow it down. It is but the work of a moment to finish the broth, for I am hungry and the warmth of the hot liquid in my stomach is welcome.

“There’s a spot more,” Mam offers

“Thank you, it is delicious. I think I am finally beginning to warm up a little.” My reply causes her to frown.

“Ye are still cold?”

“Not outside but inside,” I explain, “I have never felt anything quite like the sensation of severe cold inside my body before.”

Now Mam is looking worried, “Perhaps I should call the healer back?”

“NO! I mean, no,” I lower my voice as I see her eyebrows rise at my tone, “there is no need, really. I am sure I will recover very swiftly once I have had another bowl of your soup.”

She doesn’t look satisfied with my answer and is obviously about to call out for someone to send for the healer. So I bring out my most appealing smile, and say, “perhaps if I sat a little closer to the fire, next to you I would warm up more swiftly and it would ease my ribs to sit upright for a while.”

I ease myself out from under the covers as I say this, and am relieved to find that someone has taken the time to dress me in a nightshirt. Mam is so busy seeing that I have sufficient covers and cushions that she forgets about the healer and by the time I am curled up in a pile of thick furs and blankets with, my head resting against her knee she seems happy enough to leave me be for a while at least.

I watch the fire while Mam returns to her lace making and I doze a little. I hear soft voices but whoever is inquiring after me is sent away and I finally begin to feel warm and more relaxed. Mam watches me watching her fingers, “you have seen someone making lace before?”

I nod, “One of the few memories I have of my Nana is of her working on her lace in front of her solar window. I must have been very young for I cannot recall anything else about her, just her long fingers moving the pins and bobbins and her smile.”

I duck my head not wanting her to see my trembling lips but she seems to understand my distress for she gives me a gentle hug and a kiss to the top of my head then continues.

“She died when you were little more than a babe, Gimli tells me.” Mam strokes my hair, “No wonder then that you and your Da are so close.”

I try to smile in response to this but the mention of Ada’s name makes my eyes well up and instead I find myself weeping softly.

“Here now, lambkin,” Mam is kneeling by my side in an instant her arms wrapped about my shoulder, offering comfort. “Whatever is the matter? Are you in pain? Is it that you are missing your Da? Is that why you tried to get home this morning?”

I nod being incapable of speech.

Mam puts her hands on either side of my face and looks me firmly in the eye, “But there is more to it than just homesickness is there not?”

Again I nod my eyes going back to her lace cushion.

“Has it got something to do with your Naneth as well?”

It is almost a relief to confess, “Yes, in a few days it will be my begetting day, the anniversary of the day when Adar and Naneth chose to have an elfling. It is a very special time for any elven family, but for Ada and me, it is also our time to remember my Nana.

We look back and talk, and laugh and cry, Adar has many chests of treasures that he keeps, not expensive things, but items that were important to Nana. And each year he chooses one of his treasures and tells me about it and why he keeps it. It is the way I get to learn about my Naneth and Ada can remember his Queen.” I take a halting breath as I try to keep my emotions under control, “I was not with him last year because of the Quest. I desperately wanted this year to be special and now I am going to miss our day, and well, well, I so wanted to be there.” I end on what even I realize is something very akin to a wail.

“Eh lamb, why ever didn’t you tell us earlier?  We would never have kept you here with us had we known how important it was for you to get home.”

“You mean I can still go?”

Mam’s face tells me the answer to that before she speaks, and even while hope flared briefly at her comment, I know it was only a fool’s hope, for even if Gimli gave permission for me to travel in this benighted storm, now I am injured.  There is no possible hope for my making the journey. By keeping silent I have sealed my own fate and I have only myself to blame, yet her words still make me want to cry.

“I wish I could say yes, lamb, but honesty makes me say no. Not with your injuries and the weather. Your father would not thank us if we allowed you to travel in the state you are in, even if it means he will be without your company for your special day.”

“I know” I mutter, “It is my own fault I am sundered from my Ada, no one else’s, and you are right he would be wrathful with me were I to try and get home in such circumstances, but I am going to miss him so very much.”

Mam doesn’t reply but merely enfolds me in her arms and holds me tightly and allows me to weep into her shoulder until I have no tears left to fall.

xxxx

I run a hand over the bow I have been working on from the long lower limb, over the handle and arrow shelf, to the upper limb, across the upper recurve, to the string notch to the very tip.  I have smoothed out every scratch on it, oiled it until it gleams and removed and waxed the elf-hair string. It is a beautiful weapon; graceful and elegant like its owner.  Also like its owner it is deceptively powerful and dangerous for something so slender and light.  But that is where the similarities end between this weapon and its possessor, for there remains no evidence of its spectacular slide down the mountain this morning unlike my poor battered elfling who is covered in battle scars from his mad attempt to conquer the ice covered stone steps.  I cannot help shuddering to think of it. 

After this morning’s adventure, I found myself unable to continue with my day as planned, but also found I was too restless to sit back and do nothing. So in spite of the fact that I was exhausted from the first climb of the day, I decided to go after the bow that I had had to leave behind before.  I knew Legolas would worry over it as soon as it occurred to him that it was missing, so I thought I could get it back in shape before he had to see what damage it had taken. It seemed like a small enough thing to do to ease his mind.  With a little tender care I was able to nurse it back to its former glory rather quickly and easily; something I desperately wish I could do for my friend. Unfortunately his journey home that would have been postponed by a few days by the ice had he listened to my advice, is now likely to be postponed for weeks instead.  Even with his superior, rapid healing it takes time to knit bones back together, and he will not dare stir from this place until I decide it is safe for him to do so. 

He might be hard headed at times, but he wouldn't try to defy me so soon after what has taken place, especially knowing he is now being very closely watched. In the state he is in I could catch him easily enough, besides the fact that every resident of Erebor would immediately inform me if he were seen trying to leave.  I will not have to say this, for he is a bright lad and already knows the score, though sometimes it is hard to tell it by the decisions he makes.  I know it is usual for youngsters to be impulsive, but there are times when I feel like I am failing in my role as a substitute parent.  Seeing the shape he has gotten himself into under my watch is proof enough that this is beyond me.

This is what I am thinking about when Mam steps out of the bedchamber into the common area where I have been doing my repair work.




My worry must be evident on my face, for she is quick to reassure me.

“Don’t look like that, dear. He is already showing small signs of improvement.”

“I am certain he will recover in time,” I tell her, “I am just not so sure I will.  My heart cannot take many more days like this one.” 

Mam just laughs at that and picks up the teakettle, fills it and puts it on the fire to heat.  “Don’t worry,” she says, “you can handle it.”

“Have you looked at him, Mother?  There isn’t an undamaged spot on him, well except his teeth maybe, and that all happened under my care.  It is becoming clear that I am not cut out for this! If I were he would still be whole.”

Mam sits down across the table from me and takes my hand.  “That is just nonsense,” she tells me, “the same thing could have happened were his own father here if the lad took it into his head to do something crazy.  Believe me, young ones of all kinds are brash and reckless at times and there is nothing you can do or say that will change that fact.  You just have to keep at it and hope your diligence pays off eventually.”

I would like to believe her, but at the moment it isn’t easy.  My doubt must show for she continues trying to convince me.

“Look,” she says, ticking off the points on her fingers, “you assessed the situation and when you found it dangerous you told him not to go.  When he did it anyway you risked your own neck to bring him back.  You saved him from Lilja’s over zealous tending and protected his dignity. You took on the mountain _again_ to rescue his weapon and then repaired it so he wouldn’t have to worry over it.  What more do you think you could have done?”

“I could have talked more convincingly. I could have watched him better.  I could have told the guards to inform me if he tried to leave.  There a thousand things that I could have done that I didn’t think of. The ugly truth is I should have protected him and I failed to do so.”

She reaches out to pat my hand and smiles sympathetically, “You will never be able to think of everything or protect him completely, but the fact that you wish to do so shows that you are more cut out for this task than you give yourself credit for.  He could not hope for a better surrogate father and I’m quite certain he knows it, even if you do or not!”

Perhaps she is right, though just at the moment it is hard to believe.  Still I know Lady Vonild would not lie to me just to shield my feelings, so I have no choice but to consider that she might be correct in her theory.  I certainly hope so, but suppose only time will tell.

“What on earth possessed him to do such a foolish thing?” I wonder out loud, “All he would say is that he couldn’t tell me because I would think it was childish.”

Mam sighs, “That is something I need to talk to you about…”

The story she tells me leaves me shaking my head in disbelief. 

“Why could he just not tell me this?” I ask.

Mam scowls slightly, “I do not pretend to understand male pride, but my guess is he didn’t want you to see him as fragile or juvenile for desiring to be with his father.”

I groan and rub my forehead in an attempt to ease the throbbing there.  Have I ever given the impression that I would think such a thing?  If I have it was purely unintentional, for I certainly do not believe it to be a sign of weakness to be homesick.  Had I known this earlier I would never have urged him to come home with me in the first place, especially after seeing that the weather was beginning to turn. 

“You know that I don’t think less of him for that, don’t you?” I ask, hoping that not everyone is under the impression that I am so hard hearted.  “It is only right that he should wish to be with his father on his special day.  I only wish I could make it happen for him.”

“Of course I know that, but Legolas is the one who needs to hear that from you.  At the moment he is in pain, missing home, and likely worried that he has lost your good opinion as well.  You can ease his mind on that at least.”  She mixes the powders left  by the healer in a cup of  hot water and hands it to me. “Take this with you and see that he drinks it, and try to fix things between you quickly for he will not be able to rest properly until he knows he still has your approval.  You will both feel better if you get things out in the open.”

I can see the wisdom of her words, so I set aside my worries over my own inadequacy and focus instead on what I can do to make things better for my friend, for I cannot  stand to see him suffer even if it was his own doing.  Even though I am still frustrated over his wilfulness in insisting to ignore my advice, I can see that it would be counterproductive to rant and scold over it at this point.  He already is paying for his actions and pointing out that I was right all along will not accomplish anything.  Besides after hearing the explanation as to why he felt so strongly that he needed  to leave, my heartstrings are admittedly tugged, especially remembering the reason why he wasn’t home with his father this same time last year. I can see that that would make it doubly important for him to be there this year, though clearly it isn’t going to happen now.  I will have to remember to send word to his father the reasons for his extended stay here, for he no doubt is also anxiously anticipating spending the day with his son and will be concerned when he doesn’t show up for it as expected.

 Taking the cup and the repaired bow with me, I open the door to Legolas’ bedchamber and find him back in bed and propped up against many cushions and buried in furs and blankets. I wince when I get another look at his face decorated with contusions.  His eyes are wrenched tightly shut as if he is trying to overcome some sort of pain, but when he hears the door close he opens them.  Seeing that it is me instead of my mother he takes on a rather wary expression.  Mam was right. He must be concerned over what my reaction will be, and it is up to me to set him at ease for I do not wish him to be nervous every time we are in the same room.  I am not sure what to say, so I begin by talking about the weapon.

“I have fixed your bow,” I tell him, leaning it against the wall, “it is as good as new, I believe.”

“Thank you Elvellon,” he says looking down and starting to wring his hands, “you should never have had to do it.”

 

I sit carefully on the side of the bed and cover his tightly clasped hands in one of mine.  “I didn’t mind at all.  It gave me something to do and it is a lovely weapon to work on. Besides I didn’t want ye to worry over it.”

My explanation seems to cause him to hang his head even lower, which is certainly not the reaction I was hoping for.  I realize I will have to do something to overcome the uneasiness that has grown between us. 

“This will never do, Lamb.  Come.”  I change positions so I am sitting beside him with my back against the pillows as well so that I can put one arm around him and pull him into an extra gentle embrace.  He cautiously puts his head on my shoulder and we just sit together silently until we start to feel more comfortable with one another.  It is only after he seems to have relaxed a little that I begin to speak.

“I wish ye had told me of your need, Lad.  I would have done everything in my power to see that you made it home. I may not have been able to let you go anyway, but I would have tried my best for ye.  I could have had crews clearing the steps so we could at least see what the weather was like further down the mountain.  But I cannot read your mind, Child.  Ye must tell me if you need something, and most times I will give it to you if it is within my power to do so. Surely you know that by now.”

“I know that,” he says, “it just seemed so infantile a request that I couldn’t make myself say it.  I couldn’t bear the thought of losing your respect and now I have managed to do so anyway.”

“Respect be damned, Elfling!  Surely you know me better than to think that you could lose my good opinion that easily,” I admonish.  “Furthermore, I do not think it childish that you long to be with your Ada on your begetting day, and if I did, you are still entitled to be so on occasion.  There is  no shame in being homesick, Lad, and it certainly does not reflect on your strength or capabilities.  It is the most natural thing in the world, so next time I want you to just tell me!”

“All right, Gimli, I will.”

“Promise  me!”

“I promise.”

“Very well then! “  It is then that I remember about the cup Mam sent in with me.  I place it in his hand and am happy to see that he is able to manage it on his own now.  “Swallow this for me, Lamb. It will ease your pain a bit and maybe you will be able to rest better.”

It does not take long for the medication to take effect, and I can sense that he is becoming more comfortable as he moves around until he is leaning partially against me with his head resting on my chest and one arm slung over my legs.  After a while he lets out a long sigh and I know he is still dwelling over the fact that he will not be able to get home in time for his special day.  I start to talk of something that might distract him, but then perhaps it would be better to talk about it.

“Tell me about it,” I request.

“About what?”

“About your begetting day and how you would usually celebrate it.  Perhaps there is one that was extra special?  I would like to hear about it.”

XXXX

I relax against Gimli’s broad shoulders and finally begin to feel a little better.  My guardian is not angry with me. Exasperated yes, but not angry, though he has every right to be. I am very fortunate to have Gimli Gloinson as my friend.

I think about how I have celebrated my begetting day over the many yeni of my life, the way my Ada has tried to make it special for me and begin to speak.

“Begetting day celebrations are very special to my folk, especially for those of among us who are still considered young.” Gimli snorts appreciatively but I ignore him and continue. “I admit I am the youngest elf still in the outer lands but others still enjoy the festivities that go with begetting day celebrations. After an elf reaches their majority they no longer mark their begetting day every year but only once every half yeni or so. So you can see why young elves look forward to the annual revelries so much, because we lose it so soon.” I can see he is looking a little perplexed and I suppose for mortal kind, even the long lived ones like the dwarves must think a thousand years a long time, but to the elves it is hardly any time at all. I decide to distract him from his thoughts so I offer to tell him how we elves celebrate such occasions. To my relief he nods enthusiastically.

“I would like that very much lad.”

I settle back a little more and gather my thoughts, “We begin the day as the sun rises, for it is the tradition for family members to greet the dawn together, and then we ride out into the woods to visit our family grove.”

“Grove?” Gimli looks puzzled.

I smile at the question, for of course he would not know of our traditions, so I explain further. “When an elfling is first conceived the parents plant a tree to honour the impending birth. For a male we plant a beech or oak for a female a birch or alder. As the tree grows and flourishes so we hope the child will do the same.  As we tend the tree, so we tend our young and each year through our long years of childhood we make an annual journey to share our joy with them and revel in our and their growth. My Ada’s tree is there and Nana’s and mine is set between them and its branches have grown so swiftly they now touch and mingle with theirs.”

Gimli pats my hand for he sees my eyes are brimming with tears again, “That sounds a lovely thing to do, lamb and very appropriate for your people. Would I be welcome in your grove or is it kept only for your family?”

I glance up at him shyly, “you would be very welcome to see my tree when you visit us in the spring.” I sniff, something that a well brought up elf should not do, but Gimli does not seem to mind.  Instead he asks me what happens after our visit to the grove. “For elflings that are born in the summer, the family would spend much of the day there, taking with them special foods to eat. I was born in the winter of course so we do not spend so much time outdoors but return before the noon meal. When I was little more than an elfling it was a great source of disappointment to me that we could not stay outside to eat. So Ada and Nana used to arrange for us to have a special meal on the floor in Naneth’s solar, we had all the foods that we would have had outside and we used to toast my favourite spiced fruit bread over the fire, then cover it with butter and honey. Although Ada says it was usually me that ended up with my face and hair covered in butter and honey!”

Gimli chuckles at the thought of me with honey in my hair. “Do you still keep up the tradition?”

“Yes even after Nana’s death Ada kept up the practice. We still share our noon meal together sitting on the floor.  Foolish I know.”

“Not foolish at all lamb,” my friend soothes, “it is lovely to think that you keep up such things, family traditions are very important. So, what happens next after your al-fresco meal?”

“Early in the afternoon, Ada usually has to do some what he used to call ‘kingly’ things, for although he tried to give me all his attention on my day there were always things that needed to be decided upon within the realm. It was a lesson I learnt early that a king’s duty comes before pleasure even when they would rather it did not. When I was younger I would take a nap or at least I tried to, for one of the treats for my day was being able to stay up for the feast in the evening. As I grew older I spent the afternoon visiting friends and those members of the household who are like family to me and accepting their best wishes.”

“You do not get gifts then or give them to others like the Hobbits do on their birthdays?”

“Oh there are gifts, I am happy to say, but they are not given until the banquet, save for the family ones which are given just before we dress for the feast for one of the traditional gifts that is given by family is a new set of clothing. Sometimes, I wished very much that, that was not the case.” I wrinkle my nose at the memory of some of the outfits I have been forced to don as a Prince of my people, I much prefer my simple warrior garb.

Almost as if he is reading my thoughts Gimli reminds me that as a Prince I have to dress appropriately, and he adds somewhat provocatively that I always look very pretty when dressed up in silks and satins. I scowl at him but decide that given my circumstances it is probably wiser not to comment.  Instead I continue with my explanation of how my begetting day is celebrated. “As soon as he can, Ada joins me again and he opens the trunk he keeps in his chambers, in it are his special treasures, the mementoes he values most. Small insignificant things to others perhaps but they include many of my Nana’s favourite things as well as some of the gifts I gave Ada and Nana on their begetting days. We choose just one thing then he tells me a story about it or we share our memories and recall what makes it special to us. That is my favourite part of the whole day, for although we may shed a few tears most of our memories are happy ones and I know Ada appreciates being able to speak freely of Naneth and to weep should he wish to.

Finally in the early evening Ada presents me with my begetting day gift. As an elfling I found it very frustrating to have to wait all day for the gift giving. I always tried to find them, and never could for Ada was very sneaky and hid them in a different place each year. I suppose it was one way to keep me occupied in the days leading up to my begetting celebration. I drove everyone demented trying to find them. One year in particular I was so set upon finding them that I caused all kinds of trouble and found myself in bother because of it.”  I shrug off that particular memory and instead continue to tell of our traditions. “Ada and I go into the feast together and the whole court offers me their felicitations, and presents me with my gifts. Once I have given them my thanks we eat and drink our fill, Master Lalvelion my Adar’s head cook, always produces my favourite foods and a honey cake to finish with before the tables are cleared away and we have music, dancing, singing, and storytelling. Then Ada sees me to bed and offers me his own special blessing in song before I sleep. His song is added to by everyone in the stronghold and through the wood so that I feel as if I am surrounded by music and care; it is a very special moment in a very special day.”

I fall silent remembering the many, many begetting days I have shared with my father and wishing I was with him.

Gimli gives me a moment or two to recover before speaking, “I can see why you wanted to be with him so badly, lamb.  Sorry I am that you will not be.”

I manage a rather wan smile and then tuck my head into his shoulder and let my tears flow again. I should be ashamed of my weakness but I am not and in Gimli’s company I know I do not have to be. If I cannot be with my father there is no one else I would rather spend my begetting day with than Gimli Gloinson and his family.

He allows me to weep for a while before he kisses my brow and smiles “Here now lamb, no need for all this sadness. I am sure your Ada will welcome your return home whenever it happens and would sooner have you there fit and well, not battered and bruised as you are just now.” Then he adds with a chuckle “And I would dearly love to hear about that particular day when you caused so much trouble for yourself.” He raises an eyebrow at me and smiles again, but I can see in his eyes that he is suffering on my behalf, I have managed to upset him badly. Although many do not know it, Gimli has a kind heart and hates to see those he loves in pain and he will do anything to prevent it if he can and since it is my fault that sees me here I decide to acquiesce with his wish to hear that particular story, it is the least I can do.

“I am sorry to say, Elvellon, that the tale I am about to tell you shows me in a very poor light. I can only ask that you take into consideration that I was extremely young when this incident happened.”

Gimli actually guffaws at my attempts to justify my conduct all those yeni ago and I am happy to hear the amusement in his voice as he assures me he will try to remember what I am telling him.  His laughter makes me smile as I begin to speak. “It was less than fifty years after my Naneth’s death, and both Ada and I were still attempting to adjust to her loss …”

 

“Legolas Thranduilion you come back here this instant”

I have absolutely no intention of heeding that order for I am on an important duty, and cannot spare the time to talk to my care giver. It is my begetting day and Ada has been immured in his council chambers for what seems to me to be many hours. He is supposed to be spending time with me, and the fact that he has not seems to me to be a perfect excuse for me to do what needs to be done. In other words I am on the hunt for my begetting day gifts. I know I have several, for I have seen the messengers arriving carrying some extremely interesting parcels. Well interesting for me at least, and by careful scrutiny I know that they have been secreted away in my Adar’s dressing room and it is there that I am headed for I have waited long enough for my begetting day gifts and am determined to get my hands on them sooner rather than later.

Dodging past the guards who always stand at the end of the hallway I scoot into Ada’s private chambers and then skid to a halt, for my conscience is pricking me unmercifully. I know I should not be here without permission, and I am intending to search for things that I have been told quite categorically I am not to do.

Yet I am determined to do what I set out to do. I have been waiting for an age or more already and I have decided I will wait no longer, I am sure Ada will understand. A frown appears on my face as I think over this, although I am very fortunate in my Adar he does not approve of disobedience. Still it is my begetting day and despite some very close calls I have never yet faced punishment on my begetting day and I am confident I can charm my way out of any disapproval today as well. With this comforting thought in mind I continue into Adar’s dressing room.

The walls of the dressing room are lined with clothes presses and cabinets. Some of them are built in but over the ages more have been added as well as many trunks and boxes. My keen eyes soon spot my presents, however, for they are neatly stacked on one of the larger cabinets. My problem will be getting to them.

I look around and decide that the best way to reach them is to pile up the boxes and climb up them. The trunks would perhaps be easier but they are too heavy for me to move, so the boxes it will have to do. After some struggling I manage to place three boxes on top of each other and begin to scramble upwards. It is not very stable but I am light and I only wish to see if I can discover what is in the intriguing parcels that are calling out to me.

To do this I have to stand on tip toe and stretch as far as I am able. I just get my fingers on the first parcel when the door swings open and a voice demands to know what I am doing?

I turn my head and see Ada standing in the doorway and looking anything but happy. He takes in the scene without my needing to say anything and orders me to get down at once. I can see he furious with me and I take a precautionary step backwards but by shifting my weight the boxes beneath me begin to move then, wobble alarmingly before collapsing beneath me sending me crashing towards the floor.

I never reach it though for Ada springs across the floor and catches me before I do. Then he swings me under his arm, pulls down my leggings and proceeds to paddle my bottom with the sort of enthusiasm that I know is going to leave me very sore and sorry for some days to come. Long before Ada decides I have been sufficiently punished I am kicking, and wailing and feeling very sorry for myself.

“But Ada it is my begetting day” I sob as he finally turns me the right way up and enfolds me in his arms.

“And with foolishness like you have just displayed, it could well have been your last.” He growls as he kisses my head, “whatever were you thinking?”

“I wanted to see what gifts had been sent,” I am sniffling and hiccupping and Ada hands over a kerchief for me to use. “I did not mean to be naughty Ada, only you were gone such a long time and I waited and waited but you never came and, and … now I have spoilt our special day. I am s … sorry,” I end up on another wail.

“Hush best beloved. We still have the rest of the day together. You are unhurt all is well between us.”

“Not quite unhurt Ada,” I protest rubbing at my tender rear.  He laughs and holds me closer and I know that as long as I am in his arms I will always be safe begetting day or no.

XXXX

 

Being careful of his many injuries I rub gentle circles on my elfling’s back and allow him to weep softly into my shoulder.  There are very few who ever see this side of my friend and I consider it an honor that he has become comfortable enough with me to show this softer, more fragile side in my presence.  It breaks my heart to see him so distressed though.  It is sometimes difficult for mortal kind to understand, but for the fair folk who will continue to live on for ages untold a few hundred years is as the blink of an eye.  For all races the time of youth passes by quickly and much of his childhood was spent fighting the shadow or in training to do so.  Too much of it has been taken from him already, and this just seems to me to be one more loss.  I swallow the lump in my own throat before kissing his brow and cheerfully reminding him that his Ada will welcome his return whenever it comes and would likely prefer he travel after he has mended a good bit.  I then ask him to tell me a story of a specific begetting day. 

After a long list of disclaimers about his extreme youth at the time, Legolas tells me a story of an early begetting day not long after his mother’s death when his impatience got the best of him and he ended up in a predicament with his father.  I find myself smiling at the mischievous elfling he had been that day and then I laugh out loud at his final comments on the tale. 

“It is the only time in all the years of my life I have been punished on my begetting day.” He tells me glancing up at me a bit slyly. 

“And I suspect you’d like to keep that record going, am I right?”  I ask, chuckling.

“Umm…well…it would be a shame to ruin it,” he says hopefully.

“That should be easy enough to manage.  After all it isn’t your begetting day yet.”  I tease. 

“Gimli!” he offers me a pleading look, “you know what I mean.”  His eyes have become the size of saucers by now.  It is a totally unnecessary tactic for he has suffered enough and too much already and I do not think I need to add anything further for him to understand that he should have listened to me.  He’s got it without my belaboring the point. Of course he doesn’t know I feel that way yet, so I cannot help teasing him a bit.

“Don’t bat your eyes at me, Elfling for I am made of sterner stuff than to fall for your charms.  When you disobey me, you must pay the penalty.  You are not to leave this dwelling for the rest of the day.” 

Relief floods his features. He smiles at this ‘sentence’ and rolls his eyes.  “As if you would have let me leave in this condition otherwise.”

“Hmmph!  Such insolence! For that you can just add tomorrow also!” I pronounce.  He chuckles at my antics, but I can see his mind is more at ease knowing that everything is fine between us.  He wraps an arm around my neck.

“Thank you, Elvellon,” he whispers, “I’m sorry to be such a burden to you.”

Now those _are_ fighting words. He knows how I feel about his being overly critical of himself. He can be gregarious at time or even thoughtless and careless, but he is never a burden.  I frown and lift his chin.  “You are no burden to me, Lad. You mustn’t say such a thing again unless you wish to schedule a discussion about it for when you are in a better condition.  I assure you I can make my views on the subject quite plain.  Is that what you want?” 

He shakes his head emphatically.  “I won’t say it again,” he promises me.

“Good Lad!” I say and then take his hand again.  “Now I think  its best if you rest. You’ve had a difficult day.  I will stay with you for a while.”

He settles in and I find myself watching him sleep and thinking about the events of the day.  The more I think about it the more of a shame it seems that he will not be able to be home for his begetting day.  I wish there was something I could do, but of course it is impossible for him to make it home now with the terrible weather and his injuries.  Then I realize that there is no reason that I cannot still give him a special day. It would not be a substitute for being with his father, but it could at least serve as a distraction and it could prove to be rather enjoyable as well.  The more I think about it the more I warm to the idea.  It will take some quick planning and some help from my family, but I should be able to manage something to mark the day.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

 

 

 

 

Title:  A Step Too Far part 3

Author: Minnie and Beth

 

The next few days are busy ones for me but dull ones for my friend.  He is trying very hard to cooperate and do as he is bid, but he does not have much aptitude for keeping still and I can see he is becoming frustrated in spite of the fact that we are trying very hard to keep him entertained and distracted.  This isn’t easy since I have plans to make, most of which have to be done either away from home or in hushed tones after I am certain he is sleeping.  With his heightened hearing abilities, keeping secrets would be nearly impossible if he were back to full steam.  As it is, the pain medication he continues to need keeps him a little less aware than usual.  I can see that he is a little disappointed when I spend very little time with him over the next few days, but I hope it will be worth it when he finds out the reason for my unexplained absence. 

Finally the morning of Legolas’ begetting day arrives and I am up before the others have stirred from their beds.  He talked of greeting the dawn with his father, so I am determined to begin in the same way.  I wish to emulate his usual begetting day traditions only with a twist since we shall be combining this with traditional dwarfish birthday customs.  The outcome should be something unique at the very least.  To begin the day I bring the traditional curtain of blessings that my sister finished making late last night and snuck in to me under her jacket.  This curtain is made from white and gold ribbons tied to a metal rod that can be hung on two pegs on either side of the door.

I quietly enter Legolas’ bedchamber to find him still sleeping, as are most other sensible people at this hour.  In the dim light of the dying coals of the fire I can see his bruises have faded considerably though there is still evidence of his fall. I quickly hang the curtain on the outside of the door and close it quietly behind me before waking him. I brush his cheek with one finger and immediately his eyes are open and he is concerned that something is wrong.

“No, nothing like that, Lamb,” I assure him.  “I just want you to go somewhere with me.”

“Where are we going, Gimli?  Isn’t it the middle of the night?”  His is clearly confused but curious as well.

“It is the dawn of your begetting day,” I tell him.  “I can’t take you to your special grove, but I want to show you what this day looks like from the top of the mountain.  Now dress warmly, Lad, because we are going outside and it hasn’t warmed up a smidgen since you were last out there.”

It takes a little time for him to dress since he is still rather stiff and sore, but it isn’t long until he is ready.  I take his cloak from the hook and he opens the door and gestures for me to precede him, but I have to refuse.

“Nay, Lad you must go first so ye’ll have a successful year next year.  I wouldn’t want to steal your good fortune.”

He looks at me as if I’ve grown two heads and in all fairness, it is awfully early in the morning to take in so much.  He likely thinks I’ve gone off my rocker. 

“Look at the doorway, Lad,” I laugh.  He finally looks and sees  the fringe of ribbon that I have draped across the doorway.  He must walk through them to leave the bedchamber. 

“What are they for?” he asks reaching to move them aside.

“Ye mustn’t brush them aside.  Put your arms down and walk slowly through them.  The white ones will absorb your troubles and worries while the gold ones pick up your hopes and dreams and plans for the future, but only for the first person of the day to walk through them and that has to be you.”

"Ye must't brush them aside. Put your arms down and walk through them.  The white ones will absorb your troubles and worries while the gold ones pick up your hopes and dreams and plans for the future, but only for the first person of the day who walks through them and that has to be you!"

He shrugs and walks through the curtain and I immediately gather the white ones and throw them into the fireplace. By the time we return, someone will have started a fire and symbolically destroyed all of his lingering worries from the pat year.  I take the gold ones and put them in the middle of the dining room table.  I choose one and tie it around his waist and then place a hand on his head and offer a Khuzdul blessing.

He cannot understand the Khuzdul words, of course, so he immediately asks what they mean.




 

“It means, ‘May the joys that surround you be pure and the hearts that love you be true.’ “I explain,  “The tying on of the blessing ribbon is an outward symbol of my best wishes for you. It also shows others you may come across as you go about your day that this is your special day so that they may add their good wishes as well. You should wear any ribbons you receive until the end of the day.  Now then, Lad, shall we go?“ 

“Certainly!” he agrees fingering the streamers of the long ribbon and we head into the corridor.  We take our time in deference to his still healing bones, though I am happy to see that his knee at least is almost as good as ever.  The stairs up to the main entrance prove a little more of a challenge, but I offer a supportive arm and we manage to get to the top.  Once there the entrance guards smile and offer their best wishes as soon as they notice the gold ribbon.  Legolas thanks them politely as he allows me to help him into his cloak and pull his hood up before donning my own. 

We step out into the frigid weather and see that the freezing rain has deposited at least an inch of clear ice on every exposed surface in sight.  The first rays of the sun strike the tops of a row of leafless maple trees that line the ridge of the mountain which shine back in a dazzling light.  As the sun rises further, its brilliance is reflected and refracted off ever more of the crystal garden that used to be the ordinary countryside of the Lonely Mountain.  Thin branches sparkle like diamond necklaces.  Weeds rising from the snow look like the stems of crystal goblets.  What usually looks like rough stone glistens and gleams this morning and soft breezes play the branches of trees like wind chimes.  Stiffer winds send long ice chains tinkling and crashing as they hit the ground. The pool at the top of the Running is turned into a skating rink and the river itself twinkles and sparkles in the sunlight. This world transformed is both glorious and hazardous.

As I expected, Legolas is amazed by the stunning beauty of the phenomenon of the world that seems to be encased in glass.  “It looks like something from a story book,” he tells me, tossing back his hood for a less obstructed view.

“I know it doesn’t replace your usual begetting day traditions, but I thought you would like to at least see what this day looks like outside the walls of stone.  It is a moving sight is it not?”

“Quite spectacular indeed!” he agrees.  We stand and talk admiring the morning until the cold finally drives us back inside, or at least it drives me inside and I insist that Legolas come with me before he becomes too chilled.  I’m sure he would like to argue the point, but it hasn’t been long enough since his incident with the steps for him to push me just yet, so he follows me meekly back inside. 

On the way back, he is offered blessings and good wishes by several folks who pass by us and when we arrive back, the whole family has already gathered at the table.

 My father is the first to stand and greet Legolas with another of the gold ribbons, which he also ties around his waist.  He takes Legolas’ hands and speaks a few Khuzdul words and then translates them, so the one being blessed will understand the wishes meant for him.

“May your journeys always be safe and may you always return to our door.”  It is a traditional blessing for visitors and I can see Legolas is touched by the sentiment.  Gloin gestures for him to sit at the table and when he does so Dorbryn places a ribbon that has been tied into a loop around his neck. She wishes him warm words on a cold evening, a full moon on a dark night and a pathway lined with flowers. 

Lady Vonild ties her ribbon onto the end of his braid, places both hands on his head and offers a simple blessing for a life filled with happiness and fulfilled dreams.  She ends with a kiss to the top of his head and then laughs at her anxious grandson who is standing next to her.

Greirr is jumping up and down in excitement for his turn and if it weren’t for my grasping him by the back of the shirt he might have crashed right into the guest of honor and knocked him out of his chair.  “Slow down there, lad, you must be careful.  Legolas is still injured you know.” I warn him.

“Sorry,” he says and begins to move painfully and comically slowly. He takes extreme care to place the ribbon over Legolas’ head without coming in contact with so much as a hair on his head.  Legolas laughs at this and assures him that he’s not so fragile that he can’t touch him at all.  So Greirr tentatively touches the back of his hand with one finger and whispers his wishes directly in Legolas’ ear. 

“He wishes me luck on staying out of mischief during the rest of my visit and if I can’t then he hopes no one will find out.” Legolas tells us with a smile. There is a burst of laughter at that. 

“I also wish you the wisdom to choose apple-walnut pancakes for breakfast,” Greirr says handing him another ribbon. 

“Now Greirr, it is not your day and Legolas might not even like apple-walnut pancakes,” Dorbryn admonishes him. 

“It is a family tradition that the person celebrating a birthday gets to choose the kind of pancakes that will be served for first meal,” Mam explains. “But it is no trick to make more than one kind, Dorbryn.  Let the child have his apple-walnut if he wants them.”  She ruffles Greirr’s hair and smiles fondly down at him. 

There is no need for that of course, since Legolas readily agrees that apple-walnut pancakes would be very satisfactory indeed.  The meal is a merry affair, made more pleasurable to me by the fact that my elfling seems to be perfectly content with the morning so far. Even when Mam insists that he swallow the medications left by the healer and reminds him that he must be careful moving about, he does not seem perturbed at all, but seems to genuinely appreciate her concern.  It may not be a the same as being at home with his father, but so far it seems to be a very agreeable substitute.  I only hope that my plans for the rest of the day go as well as the first part of the day has.

XXXX

I am awoken by the gentle touch of Gimli’s fingers on my cheek. I do not know how anyone with hands as hard as his can manage such a soft caress, but he can. My first concern is that something is amiss but he hurries to reassure me.

And to remind me that it is my begetting day. I had almost managed to forget that fact. But it will not do for me to say so, instead I smile, and when he tells me he wishes me to go outside to greet the dawn as I would have done at home, my smile becomes a genuine one, and I hurry to dress.

We are just about to exit the room when I see the ribbons and Gimli explains their special significance and it dawns on me that he is trying to make my day as special as he can and that it behoves me to enjoy what he is offering. I have never heard of this particular tradition but it is a lovely one and when Gimli tosses the white ribbons into the grate so that my worries of the last year may be consumed by the fire then ties the gold ribbon around my waist while offering me a blessing I am very moved. I know it is rare for outworlders to be included in dwarven ceremonials of any kind and I recognise the honour that is being shown me by this special friend I have been so fortunate to find.

The view from the steps is amazing! The sun makes the trees shimmer.  Far below us the river is a sheet of ice as are the steps that quite literally caused my downfall. I could stand and enjoy this spectacular sight all day but Gimli is soon insisting we go back inside and I find my recent injuries are such that I am happy to retreat to the warmth of the hall.

When we get back to our quarters I find that all of Gimli’s family are waiting for us, and each in turn offers me a blessing and ties a gold ribbon to my person. Then we share first meal together, Mam having made special pancakes for both Greirr and myself. As we eat I ask Lord Gloin to explain to me the significance of the ribbons.  He tells me quite simply that they are the physical symbols of the ties that hold a family together.

He says it in such a matter of fact manner, but again I am very well aware that I am being honoured by this.  I am being accepted as one of their family. For a moment or two I cannot find the words to express my gratitude for their kindness and even when I do, Mam tells me not to be so daft and to eat up my break of fast since I am as skinny as a broomstick. Still I wish to know more about the symbolism of the gold ribbons and why Gloin and Gimli tied their ribbons around my waist but Dorbryn, Greirr and Mam tied theirs round my neck and in my braid.

This time it is Dorbryn who gives me the answers I seek. Only a father or adopted father ties a ribbon at the waist of his child. Female family members and children usually ornament their relative’s beards, and since as Greirr points out I do not have a beard they had to come up with something else, for Mam had told him that I would not wish to have my warrior braids adorned with too many ribbons so he and his mother had decided to place their pledges of family as close to where my beard should have been as possible!

We all laugh at this and spend the rest of the merry meal talking about different customs and traditions the different peoples of Middle-earth have. Greirr is dismayed to hear that Hobbits give gifts on their birthdays rather than receive them, but is reassured when told that it means you receive gifts throughout the year instead when it is someone else’s birthday.

He then wants to know what is the difference between a birthday celebration and a begetting day. I have no idea how to answer this, but Gimli spares my blushes by telling Greirr it is time for him to go to his lessons. Once he has departed with Gloin who seems to think his daer-ion will not get to class if he is not accompanied I think the worst is over for embarrassing questioning. How wrong can I be? For scarcely has the door closed behind Lord Gloin than Mam and Dorbryn demand to know all about elven begetting days. Gimli is no help. He just laughs as I find myself blushing and stammering as to the fact that elves choose when to conceive and know at once when they have done so and what sex the elfling will eventually be and when it will be born.

Mam eventually brings the discussion to an end much to my relief by pronouncing that she would not wish to carry a child for a year even if she did know when it would be born. “Ten months is long enough for any female,” she tells me before standing to clear the table.

I offer to help but am told that since it is my special day I am let off all chores and instead she tells Gimli to take me to see the forges where she usually works. Since I have long wished to visit this area of Erebor I am eager to go, and the visit is very successful. I see some wonderful craftsmanship and many of the metal workers, taking note of my gold ribbons, wish me joy. I find the mechanized toys the most fascinating; I had several of them when I was very young and knew they were of dwarven make, but never did learn how they were made. One of the dwarves shows me the detailed drawings they work from and I finally begin to fully appreciate the work that goes into producing these clever toys.

Despite trying to hide the fact, I find the heat of the forges is making me tired and shortly after noon meal, which we share with the smiths, Gimli insists I return home to bathe and rest. My objections lack real power for in truth I am happy in the end to snuggle down under the quilt in my chambers and slip onto the pathway of dreams where I can re-live my day so far. I had been dreading my begetting day but the thoughtfulness and kindness of Gimli and his family have made it into something quite special.

Although I cannot see day or night here deep under the mountain my senses tell me it is early evening before I wake and it is the smell of food cooking that brings me from my dream path. I know I am not alone and find my faithful guardian sitting by the fire staring very thoughtfully into the dancing flames. I shift slightly and Gimli immediately looks up and smiles.

“Did ye sleep well lamb?”

“I did,” I manage around a cavernous yawn. I want to stretch but know that my rib injury would likely object such treatment so instead I ease myself into a sitting position and sniff appreciatively, “Something smells good.”

“Aye Mam is cooking something for a special friend.”

My face must have shown my disappointment for he claps his hands together and laughs “You, you daft elf! Come it is time to get up.  Your begetting day meal awaits.”

“I am to have a special meal as well as all the other kindnesses shown me?”

“Of course ye are, now hurry! Here put this on.”

Gimli hands me a shirt I have never seen before. It is deep green, of dwarven cut but obviously made for me.  Around the neck and cuffs someone has even embroidered leaves and vines entwined. I stare at it in amazement until Gimli asks somewhat worriedly “Do ye not like it?”

“It … it is beautiful but how … when …?”

“Well now, after we talked of your special traditions I happened to mention it to Mam and Dorbryn and they set to with a will to make you at least one new piece of clothing to wear. Mam was hoping it would be finished this morning but the embroidery took a bit longer than they thought so it was only finished this afternoon. I know they will be happy to see you wear it.”

I hurry to pull it on and find it fits perfectly; they must have used one of my other shirts as a pattern to make it so swiftly. I decide that I will not wear a tunic but just tie the gold ribbons back around my waist, neck and in my main braid. I can see my decision pleases Gimli for his harrumphs in that fashion of his when he is very happy but does not wish to show it.

True to form he scolds me for being vain as I take a peek at myself in the burnished metal mirror but his eyes are bright with pleasure and something that looks remarkably like mischief and I wonder what awaits me beyond the door of my chamber.

As we step into the main living area Gimli stands to one side and I feel my jaw go slack and my eyes go wide. I have no idea where they have gotten them from but the room is full of plants, while the table has been pushed aside and blankets, quilts, and fur rugs fill the floor where a positive feast awaits my pleasure.

“Gelir Edinor!” everyone calls out to me and I find I am overcome at the fact that they have all taken the time to learn some of my language to greet me thus.

Then Greirr is tugging my hand and Gloin is telling me to ‘sit down laddie’ so the feasting can begin but before I can do so, both Mam and Dorbryn kiss my cheeks for me and wish me well while I thank them for their lovely gift. I respond in kind, and Mam laughs a wonderful rich sound that reminds me so much of Gimli before she and Dorbryn go off into the kitchen to begin to bring out the food for our meal. I look across to where Gimli is still standing in the doorway and bow, sweeping my hand out in a show of respect and mouth ‘Thank you elvellon’ as Greirr finally succeeds in getting me to sit beside him by the fire and offers me some spiced bread to toast.

 

 

XXXXX

 

 

 The first part of the day has been a great success. I have no idea how we got on the subject of elven reproduction and how begetting days work, but Legolas is quite mortified by the frank questions my mother and sister are asking him.  He is not accustomed to discussing such things in mixed company especially with such straight speaking females.  I have to admit that it is rather amusing, especially since my inquisitive relatives don’t seem to notice that he is uncomfortable with the topic.  Mercifully, though Mam eventually brings the discussion to an end and chases us off so she can proceed with finishing our arrangements.  I have arranged for plants from the greenhouses to be brought in and I must have him away before they begin to arrive.  I am hoping to be able to make this place as homelike as possible for the lad.

 

I am to keep him away until midday so Mam and Dorbryn can finish their sewing and then I’ll have to distract him again in the afternoon while everything is set up.  Mam’s suggestion that we go to see the forges is a good one for there is much to see there.  Watching the metal workers takes up the rest of the morning and I can see that the afternoon should be easier to fill than I originally feared for by the end of the noon meal we share with the metal smiths Legolas is struggling to stay awake thanks to our early start and the effects of the pain medications. Predictably he makes a token protest that he is not tired when I insist that we go home so he can rest, but he is asleep within minutes of our return.  It makes me wonder if Mistress Lilja remembered to take into account that his body mass is much less than that of an average dwarf when she measured out the dosages, or if this is just a normal reaction to the healing process.  Whatever the case, he makes the celebration preparations easy for the rest of us by sleeping the whole afternoon away.

I am beginning to think I am going to have to wake him up so he won’t miss his own party, when he finally opens his eyes and comments on the aromas coming from the kitchen.  He is clearly touched to find that a special meal has been prepared in his honor and even more so when I give him the shirt made by Lady Vonild and Dorbryn.  With the two of them there to fawn and fuss over him it is entirely unnecessary for me to tell him how well he looks in it, though I am ridiculously pleased when he ties the gold ribbons back in place. 

The celebration turns out to be a great success.  The main room looks like a veritable forest with all the herb bushes and miniature fruit trees that have been brought in to mimic the indoor picnic he would have had with his father for I have seen the solar room he talked of and it is full of growing things year round.  There is a spiced bread to be toasted over the fire and served with butter and honey to remind him of home, but we also have all the traditional dwarfish birthday fare as well, including hard boiled eggs dyed red-the color for celebrations- and a many layered pound cake slapped together between ruby layers of cherry jelly and sprinkled with powdered sugar on top.  My father breaks out the ale, for it wouldn’t be a dwarven festivity without it.  It is a special stout made from a carefully guarded recipe of one family under the mountain, so it is highly prized and not easy to come by.  Perhaps he is just being polite, or maybe it is the design of the new shirt making him feel a bit dwarfish, but Legolas seems to enjoy it more than I would have expected. 

After that we all settle in to listen to Lord Gloin tell one spine-tingling tale after another beginning with the awakening of the Seven Fathers and how the eldest, Durin, founded the city of Khazad-Dûm.  Da has a knack for bringing history to life with his storytelling and we are all entranced until he begins to repeat the tale of the return of Barazantathul-the Great Red Axe of Dain II Ironfoot.  Legolas squeaks in protest of that particular tale being told and I have to admit I would rather not hear it either since I don’t think I will ever quite be reconciled to how that came about, but it is neither of our reactions that prevents him telling it.  Rather it is Lady Vonild who ends the story when my father notices her brushing a tear from her eye, likely recalling the danger Legolas put himself in to retrieve the axe just to win her approval. Instead of continuing with the story, he asks Greirr to entertain us with the new song he learned in school that morning.  Being a natural performer like his grandfather, he has us all breaking up with laughter.  Leave it to my nephew to provide the light relief! 

As soon as we  are left alone Legolas thanks me again before bidding me goodnight. Obviously he isn’t expecting anything else, but I still have one more thing to do before I retire.

“Don’t be in such a hurry, Lad.  We cannot retire without having your favorite part of the day now can we?” I say

“The day has already been perfect, Elvellon. What more can there be?” he asks me.

“It’s time for the best part!” I inform him, “What did you say was  your favorite part of the day at home?”

“When Adar shows me the items that belonged to Nana and tells me about them, but how can you...”

“Of course I cannot do that for you, as much as I wish I could.  But I want to show you something that belonged to _my_ mother.  Wait here while I get it.”

I bring out a small wooden box lined with red velvet and place it on the floor between us.  I open it and carefully bring out a special treasure that I have cherished for many years.  It is a bejewelled mithril chain belt that has been in my personal possession for eighty years, having been given to me by my mother all those years ago.  Each link contains a different stone.

“It is beautiful, Gimli. This once belonged to Mam?”

“It did, besides belonging to many others before her.  Every stone in it represents a different person in our family. It has generally been passed down to the eldest child with the new stone being added for the person it is given to.  You see every week of the year has a different stone associated with it, so the different stones mean the week the person it represents was born.”

“So if each stone represents a different generation of your family, then this must be quite old and every stone must have a story to go with it,” Legolas says, fascinated.

"Indeed and in time I will tell you the whole history, but tonight I wanted to just tell you about the most recent owners.This stone represents my great grandfather,” I say, pointing to the opal that is the fifth stone from the end.  “He wore this belt into battle against the orcs during the battle of Azanulbizar.  As you know the orc army was driven back, but nearly half of the dwarven forces were lost that day and my great grandfather on my mother’s side, Lord Brokk,  was slain during the conflict.  The surviving dwarves hurried to retrieve the weapons of all the glorious dead before the orc army had the chance to come back and get their filthy paws on them for the very idea was unthinkable of course.  My great grandmother herself found her husband’s body  in the carnage and remembering he had worn the belt into battle,  took it to save for their own eldest daughter before his body was piled with the others for burning, for there wasn’t enough stone out there in the wilderness for tombs for all the dead soldiers. .   As soon as she was able she had the next stone placed in for my grandmother Urhild.”  I point to the emerald that is next in line.  “It was given to her as a reminder of her father’s devotion to her.  She treasured it until she gave it to Lady Vonild on her wedding day in the Blue Mountains where they had settled and where I was born a few years later.  The belt would help her remember that even though she was marrying into a new family, she always had the support of her birth family.  The garnet that is next means that my mother was born on the twenty-seventh week of the year.  The belt was passed to me just after my father set out on the Quest for Erebor with Thorin Oakenshield  and ten other companions. You see I had wanted to be included in the adventure, but was considered too young at the time.  Mam gave it to me as a sort of consolation, telling me that taking care of things at home was just as noble as fighting to take back the Lonely Mountain The sapphire here shows that I was born on the fifty-second week of the year.” I finger the brilliant blue stone that is second from the end, remembering the day I received this gift.




“It is a lovely family heirloom with a wonderful story to go with it,” Legolas says. “Thank you for sharing it with me, Elvellon. That means that your birthday was only last week and I didn’t even mention it!”

I laugh at that.  “Of course not, ye daft elfling.  You had no way of knowing since I didn’t tell you. Of course now that you know you can make it up to me next year!”

“Indeed I shall attempt to,” he laughs and then turns back to admire the belt. “I can see you have already had the stones set for the next recipient.  Who will you give it to?”

I hide a smile at this, for I see he hasn’t guessed my intentions.  “The purple amethysts represent the first week of the year,” I tell him.

“That is this week,” he says, still looking puzzled and it isn’t until I take his hand and place the belt in it that he understands that I mean him to have it.  His eyes grow wide in amazement and he immediately tries to put it back in my hand.

“You can’t possibly!” he argues, “This should stay in your family. You mustn’t give it to me because you feel sorry for my predicament.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Child. It is your own fault you find yourself in your current situation. I don’t feel sorry for you at all.”  It is not entirely true of course, but there is no need to tell him that!  I take his hand and close it around the belt before continuing.  “I decided to give this to you some months ago, I just had to find out what stones to set it with first.”

“But, Gimli what if you have a child of your own someday?  You may wish you had this back!”

“If I do have a child of my own someday, that one still won’t be the first.  It matters not which of us walked this earth first or that we share no common blood.  You are the son of my heart, the first one, and it is fitting that I pass this on to you. It is yours to keep forever or to pass to someone special. Let it remind you always that you need not be with your blood kin to be with family. “

 

XXXXX

 

 

XXXX

Gimli closes the door of my bedchamber after wishing me peaceful dreams and I find myself alone at the end of an exhausting but truly magnificent day.

I am tired but before I sleep I wish to fix in my memory all of the wonderful experiences that have come my way during my begetting day celebrations here in Erebor.

The ribbon ceremony; being able to greet the morning outside under the glow of Anor’s golden light after days of being underground first meal with Gimli and his family.

The indoor picnic and all of those plants.; being around growing things made me feel immeasurably better. I do not know how Gimli managed to bring all of them here, but I am truly grateful. I am certain being near them has done me far more good than all of the vile potions the healer insisted on my swallowing.  Then there were the presents, the food, Gloin’s story telling, and Greirr’s songs. I may not have been able to fully understand what was being said all of the time, but the sentiment was clear enough. More than all of that is the knowledge of being surrounded by those who truly love me for I have been accepted as a member of the family and given a proper ‘birthday’.

But Gloin and Mam and my Gimli went further than that for they were anxious to give me the sort of celebration that I was accustomed to as part of my begetting day festivities, but they added a unique dwarven twist to the proceedings which added to my enjoyment.

Gimli and his family have truly taken me to their hearts, they went to so much trouble for me today.  I did not deserve so much consideration; it was after all my own fault that I found myself unable to return home. Yet despite all of that Mam and Gloin, Dorbryn and Greirr went out of their way to make sure that my special day would be just that special.

I am so fortunate, too fortunate …

My eyes go to the table beside my bed where the mithril belt is laid.

In the light of the fire, the stones seem to take on a life of their own, deep within each of them flames dance, blue, red, green. Each of the gems represents someone who was important to a member of Gimli’s family; each stone has its own history. Can I live up to that history? I should never have accepted this family treasure, it was very wrong of me.

Yet I cannot regret it for my heart is full.  By gifting me with this heirloom, Gimli has signalled that I am as close as a son. A poor son mayhap but a son even so and it behoves me to remember that. Not only to remember but to accept and relish that relationship.  A smile flickers into life as I realize I now have two Ada’s both with heavy hands, but both of whom love me despite my faults and failings.

This has been one of the oddest but most enjoyable begetting days I have ever celebrated one I will treasure for the rest of my immortal life.  As I slip onto the path of dreams I meet not only Gimli Gloinson but also my Ada both beaming at me and opening their arms to greet me

I repeat I am so fortunate, almost too fortunate … I had better ensure I do nothing that will change that situation, that way I can celebrate two begetting days next year!

I finally fall asleep with a smile on my lips and the warmth of two Ada’s loves enfolding me who could ask for more than that I know I cannot …

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoyed this story, there are many more like it at: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/TheLeaflingChronicles/
> 
> New members are welcome!

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this story, there are many more to be found at: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/TheLeaflingChronicles/
> 
> New members are welcome!


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